


been up in my head a lot

by youresooptomistic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drabble, M/M, artist!zayn, i hate drabbles but i wrote one?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:21:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youresooptomistic/pseuds/youresooptomistic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zayn can't even humor the idea of saying 'no'</p>
            </blockquote>





	been up in my head a lot

**Author's Note:**

> ziall is my otp above otps is there a universe in which they aren't perfectly meant for each other in every way trick question bc no

Zayn hasn't had a smoke all day, he's both proud of himself and confused and he really wants to go to sleep soon so he can say he's gone a whole day without a one or a craving but thinking about it now is making his fingers itch and before he knows it, he's hanging out his bathroom's window with a fag between his fingers, Niall making most of the conversation from where he's sitting on the edge of the tub.

"Zayn?" he says softly

"Mm?"

"Can you show me your studio?"

"I don't have one," he mutters. He can hear Niall's sarcastic face. Zayn knows what he means, he's just being difficult. Niall tells him this. Zayn breathes out smoke with his chuckle then throws the rest of his cigarette out the window carelessly and walks out of the bathroom, signalling for Niall to follow calling an unnecessary "C'mon," over his shoulder when he knows Niall's on his heels.

Zayn really doesn't have a studio it's just a room where he paints things and leaves them there. Niall seems to like it well enough, he touches everything along the edge as not to smear the pictures (Zayn appreciates that)and he's being so careful Zayn wants Niall to be that way with him-- gentle, sweet, sincere, in awe-- he needs to sit before he falls over.  
He sits on his stool facing an easel and picks up a brush out of habit, then starts twirling it in his hand.

"So you're really an artist, huh?" he says. The loudness of his voice tearing through the soft quiet atmosphere that'd settled. Zayn doesn't know how to respond to that maybe he should leave it but he feels like he needs to but his brain has lolled of on vacation. He stands up slowly, leaving his brush on the stool.

"What? That too general? 'Artist'?" Niall wonders after a while and suddenly Zayn's full of all this air that comes out in words.

"Well, yeah. These days anyone with paint and a few emotions is a painter-- an artist. And actors, dancers, singers, whatever they're artists too and what they do is beautiful, yeah, but I mean-- I feel like you're not really an artist until you've succeeded at a certain deed or... y'know? You can't just be an artist. And I want to reach that level and paint things that can make someone feel something-- that I can express how I'm feeling through.. this and someone could see that or feel it or-- I don't just want to be called an artist because it's fair to include every moody idiot who can mix a few paints and stain a canvas." Zayn wonders when he sat back down or when Niall has ever been so quiet, it makes Zayn think for a moment that he's not there anymore-- he is. He's looking at one of Zayn's never paintings, actually it's one Zayn thought he hid.

"Um, Niall could you.."

"What's this one called?" Zayn wants to tell him not to run his fingers down it like that but he doesn't have enough breath. Niall's looking at Zayn's heart. The paintings he made all for Niall, when he was depressed and excited and miserable and hopeful and stupid, Zayn wishes he his them better and wishes Niall would tell Zayn how much he loves them and understands them.

"This one," Niall whispers, moving on to a smaller painting Zayn had forgotten of until now. It was really sunny in the middle, fading into a green then turquoise near the edges and it was like the sun in Niall's eye. It is. Zayn quickly grabs that one, holding it close to his chest while his face heats up.

"Zayn…" he begins

"What-- it's nothing. These ones can just…" he picks up a white sheet from another corner of the room and attempts to cover his creepy little Niall-inspired paintings shrine. He might cry.

"I liked those, Zayn. They're beautiful. Could you paint me one like them?" he asks so earnestly Zayn can't even humour the idea of saying 'no'.

 

Niall's hungry so Zayn is making pancakes because he has a lot of mix and he really can't afford take-out this week.

"Um.. hey, Nialler?" Zayn mummers, making a second round of pancakes because the first eight he made are rapidly disappearing inure Niall's mouth.

"Hm?"

"Those, um ones.. paintings.. the ones you said you liked in my studio?"

"Yeah?" he says after a loud swallow.

"You can have o-- fuck, you can have them all, if you like." Zayn wishes he didn't sound like a breathless 20s maiden right now because he's trying to make a declaration here.  
Niall pauses, locking eyes with Zayn eyebrows raised. "You're sure?"

"They were-- I made them for you." he murmurs nervously now

"I know,"

"You did?" Zayn flushes down t his collarbones

"I had a feeling," he shrugs with a small smile,"Thanks for the pancakes, mate."

"Anytime." says Zayn distractedly

"You mean it though, I can have 'em all?" Zayn nods firmly, eyes not leaving his skillet.

"Hey. Zayn?" Niall asks, voice softer. Zayn meets his eyes feigning nonchalance.

"D'you think we could go out together, like properly. A real date and that?" he asks, avoiding Zayn's eyes. A smile breaks out all over Zayn's face, so big he can't respond until it's tones down.

"Yeah, Niall. I'd love that."


End file.
